Even though there’s a happy modem box blinking at me, I don’t have straight up, fair trade slice. I’m waiting until as late as possible to call the help line so I don’t have to be on hold for 36 minutes.
That said, I’m going to be cranky and short in my blog. It’s only hurting those I love, but tough. “Life’s not fair,” my mother would often tell me, when I wanted one of everything.
I had time today to wander the hot streets of Champaign before learning about Web of Science (it’s a database, yo), and I noticed that the always-closed sushi place was open. I decided that I should aspire to be more like Allison (ev’ry day) so I went in for a tasty lunch while I still had money in my coffer.
Not only was the sushi cheap, but it was good too. All you can quaff miso soup didn’t hurt either. I spent $8 and was gorged by the end.
I seem to be in “meet and greet” mode, so I plunked myself down to a nice fellow named Phillip. He’s an undergrad studying for the summer in the chemical engineering department, and had been to Japan earlier in the summer. We discussed lingal shibboliths. Lovely boy, really.
Good lord. Last night I was drunk enough to become obnoxious. Wow. Sorry all.
On the upside,
I taught newbies to play euchre. So, all in all, I think it balanced out karmically. Maybe.
Oh, Mom, to clarify: I stole a pack of cigarettes from someone in an attempt to keep them from smoking. Not because I smoke cigarettes.
I had time today to wander the hot streets of Champaign before learning about Web of Science (it’s a database, yo), and I noticed that the always-closed sushi place was open. I decided that I should aspire to be more like Allison (ev’ry day) so I went in for a tasty lunch while I still had money in my coffer.
Not only was the sushi cheap, but it was good too. All you can quaff miso soup didn’t hurt either. I spent $8 and was gorged by the end.
I seem to be in “meet and greet” mode, so I plunked myself down to a nice fellow named Phillip. He’s an undergrad studying for the summer in the chemical engineering department, and had been to Japan earlier in the summer. We discussed lingal shibboliths. Lovely boy, really.
Last night I got together with my new friend Jenny and her husband Spencer, and played dominos at a chocolatier cafe until late. We played a version of dominos I’m not familiar with, called Mexican Train. It looks like this:
Now I have just one session left – and I’m done. Then I get to drive to Chicago into Friday traffic. It will all be worth it. Plus, I’m listening to Edenborn, by Nick Sagan, on the old iPod.
You know, as I’ve gotten older, it’s become more rare that I am thrilled by a book – not just my thinking has changed, but also my general emotion. Granted, most of the time, even with the most amazing book, these effects are temporary.
Still, it’s a really lovely feeling to feel buoyed by what I’m reading. That’s the first reason why Cheese Monkeys is my new favorite book. (I feel like I’m a kid on Reading Rainbow.)
The second reason is because the story, told by a kid who’s going off to the state university to study art, absolutely kept me guessing about the plot. The book is original in it’s dialogue (one of the side effects being that for a while I’m going to think that everything I say is cliched) but both the dialogue and the plot are wholly believable. I doubt many people choose to think and act like our main character, but I’ve seen it before.
Which brings me to reason number 3 why this book knocked my panties off: the professor – the main faculty character in the book – is Les Bell. I don’t know when he had time to jump into this book, but maybe over his last sabbatical or possibly this summer. I don’t know. I do know that I’m afraid to ask him, just to have him have disappeared. Les, if you’re reading this, you’re creeping me out, man. I mean, besides the physique described and the tantrums, you’re Winter Sorbeck. And I’m some bastard combination of Girleen and Happy.
I might as well also mention that, while maintaining originality, there are some aspects (other than Hells Bells) of this book that are so tightly aligned to my college experience, it squeezes my breath away. Firstly, the main focus of the second half of the book is on a particular art class: Graphic Design. After scrutinizing enough typography, you just start thinking about the world differently. I was overjoyed to get to revel in this type of thought (no pun intended or achieved). Also, I love speaking in the pun-riddled (ha!) style of the main characters. It can be exhausting, if you’re hung over, but it’s a very specific type of brain activity. It’s like doing weight training on your little finger.
I finished the book at midnight last night, and absolutely couldn’t fall asleep. Granted, there were a bunch of things (kind of like a fireworks finale) that left me kind of dazed and blinky. I didn’t want the book to be done. Whatever I read next is going to disappoint me.
Thanks to Jason for the midnight phone call. Talking about Infinite Jest really did put me into a soporific state.
I’ve just finished winging my way through knitting this hat. For some reason, I think it would look best on Silva (of roadtrip fame), so I’m going to name the pattern after her.
There are more camera-pointed-into-the-mirror photos in Flickr if you click on the image.
Now just think about cutie Silva wearing the hat. Good, good. Now think about robots with hot-mitts on.
I hope Silva likes this photo – I find it charming. Plus, the one with the condom just wasn’t appropriate.
No screaming hurtful words last night.
I did dream that I got a bunch of emails from friends. Yeah, I dreamt in email.
I got my first taste of droning library people. The orientation for GAs yesterday was very Beuller. Now I just have to get through three more days of learning about jargon-y acronyms like CARLI and SIRSI and POOP. Just kidding. There’s no POOP.
I’ve just discovered that the bedroom window that blows such nice cool breezes faces a truck route. That’s fine. That just means that starting at 4 a.m., there’s heavy rumbling traffic noises that bring me a tad closer to being awake than I’d like to be.
Unfortunately, that wasn’t the major feature of last night. It seems a neighborly household was in an agitated state, and a couple would go outside onto their porch ever two hours to scream at each other. It’s one thing for there to be loud voices, it’s another to hear two people screaming, yelling, talking in that threatening dark tone, and generally upsetting the baby Sonya. There was a lot of “when you go off to work scream, scream scream” and “who’s paying for their school? I am scream, scream, scream”.
They’re no Crazy Aunt Purl’s neighbors, but they may prove to be contemporaries.
I thought about calling the police, but the first outburst was probably 15 minutes long, and I was absorbed in listening to their fight, and deciding if it was awful enough to call about. By the third time, I decided that maybe they needed to get this out of their systems.
I swear to you on this stack of laptop, if I hear so much as a peep tonight, I’m calling the po-po.
Off to GA orientation ::
Jake, after being horribly angered by the Support Our Troops magnets on every SUV in Wisconsin, took the matter into his own hands, and created Empty Gesture stickers.
Why stickers? So Republicans can’t remove them as easily. I think it will only be a matter of time before the yellow ribbon is mocked in a large manner of ways, much like those yellow Lance bracelets. I have a glow-in-the-dark blue one that signifies my alliance with and proud use of Corona beer.
Jake is filling a niche though. I saw this on a car in the parking lot of Jewel. I don’t know if you can see it, but someone took what looks to be black nail polish and wrote ‘assholes’ over ‘America’.
If you’d like your own Empty Gesture, Paypal $3 to Jake@specificobjects.net with your snail mail address, and he’ll mail it to you thusly.
I went to the Routh/Cripe cookout on Friday. I entered the guac-off that Emily and Kateri had, with a guacamole that is nearing lime-based perfection, and ended up eating my own stash. I don’t even care, it was so good.
